Across the Hall Hero
by morby-chan
Summary: There was nothing normal about having Steve Rogers as a neighbor. Good thing you never liked normal to begin with. (Steve Rogers / OC)
1. Indifference at First Sight

The first time your eyes met the striking blue of Captain Rogers was the day that he moved into the apartment across from yours. It hadn't been anything abnormally special. Time hadn't slowed down or stopped, butterflies hadn't filled your stomach, and no mysterious force had drawn you into each other's arms. He was just a man carrying a rather large looking box into his apartment and you were a woman frantically juggling too many items in your arms as you vainly rushed to try not to be even more late for work.

A small muffled sound that was meant to be a polite 'mornin' somehow just managed to escape from around the apple in your mouth as you gave the rather large man a quick nod of acknowledgement while hurrying on your way, barely registering the returned nod and sentiment until you'd made it outside, your body suddenly halting to a stop.

"…Did he call me 'ma'am'?"


	2. The Folly of a Book Lover

You had heard it once said that a book lover never regrets their passion of reading until it was time to move. And holy shit was the person that said that ever right! You'd been an ardent reader for as long as you could remember so it was only natural that when you found out that the bookstore around the corner was having a sale you'd found yourself a box and loaded it to the brim with books you knew you'd never have the time to read. The kind hearted owner had laughed at your almost unhealthy enthusiasm and offered the sensible suggestion of using smaller boxes and making multiple trips, but whether out of stubbornness, laziness, or short sightedness you politely shook your head and insisted that you would be fine.

And at first you were! Granted walking down the busy city streets carrying a box you could barely hold let alone see over had gotten you a few concerned and questionable looks, but the trip was short and you and your box had made it back in one piece. Your warm sense of pride quickly changed, however, as you came to the sudden realization that your building did not have an elevator… and you lived far from the first floor.

A whispered curse hissed past your lips as you stared at the foreboding staircase before you. Your pride would never allow you to admit it, but you weren't in the best shape someone your age could be. And while you'd smiled the whole time while carrying that ridiculously heavy box, your arms already felt sore and your lungs were slightly out of breath. A more immature part of your brain played with the idea of simply giving up and leaving the box in the hall for someone else to deal with, but that idea was quickly dismissed.

With a deep breath and a quick mental pep talk you fought to psych yourself up. Your fingers fought to grip the sharp corners and smooth edges of the box as you cautiously pushed yourself up the first step.

The first flight wasn't ientirely/i 'pull your hair out one by one with a pair of iron hot tweezers' painful, but halfway up the second flight your fingers were cramping and you had to stop every other step to find a new grip on your somehow even heavier box. You fought the instinct to take a rest as you began up the third flight, simply wanting to push through it and pass out on your couch. With that beautiful mental image in your mind you felt a small spark of re-found energy and hoisted the box up for a better grip while also reaching for the next step.

A few things happened quite suddenly. First you came to the curious realization that your foot wasn't meeting solid ground quite like you'd expected it to; that was definitely odd and a bit concerning. Second, you suddenly remembered weight and balance and how when coupled with gravity they could either be your friend or foe. At that you were getting the slight suspicion that science had once again betrayed you. The final thing was your sudden realization that yes, you were falling; no, there was nothing you could do to stop it; and holy fucking Christ reading too much was actually going to be the death of you!

There was no time to scream but an embarrassingly pathetic squeak did manage to escape you as you fell… not quite as far as you imagined you would. Hell, it didn't even hurt. Infact the cold hard ground was quite warm… and had really nice arms that were currently holding you up.

"Careful there," the owner of the arms that had likely just saved you from a broken neck helpfully advised. The voice was friendly and not at all unpleasant, but you'd probably find that true of just about anyone who saved you from falling down a flight of stairs. "Do you need some help with that?"

The stubborn half of your brain demanded that you say no and win this battle against physics on your own while the logical, and much more physically exhausted, side of you cried out in joy over the possible assistance. The two did battle until you noticed that the strain on your arms had been miraculously lifted and that the tall back of a blonde figure was now walking away with your box.

"H-hey!"

"Where were you taking this?"

Your mouth quickly fought for a smart aleck reply that your brain was too tired to devise before you let out a sigh, "Straight ahead to your left."

The blonde figure made a vague noise of either interest, acknowledgement, or both before following your directions and stopping in front of your door.

"You know, you didn't have to do this," you said, stubbornly trying to avoid thanking him as you unlocked your apartment.

The towering man simply walked past you and placed the box on your dining room table, "I know."

You weren't entirely sure what part of this twisted your nerves in all the wrong directions. It wasn't like you weren't going to invite him in; he was being extremely helpful and he had gone out of his way to do so. There was no reason (excluding your barely wounded pride) for you not to be gracious, but you crossed your arms in classic 'ready to bitch' fashion nonetheless. However, his reaction was nowhere near what you expected.

His eyes briefly met yours before quickly jumping between your hair to your tattoos and finally coming to rest on the floor, all in only the span of a few seconds. As if by magic this almost proud man turned into a pile of almost uncertain mush and could barely even look you in the eye. His shoulders squared, his eyes stayed to the floor, and his hand scratched a phantom itch on the back of his neck. "Was there anything else you needed help with, ma'am?"

"Uh, no?"

Color you confused and surprised. You didn't know what to think as he quickly made his way to the door.

"Have a good day, ma'am."

Without thought or permission your name burst from your lips just as your hand shot out in front of him. There was a pause before you said it again, somehow managing to keep eye contact with him, "That's my name. Not 'ma'am'."

You couldn't stop the amused twitching of your lip as you watched the very visible understanding and realization dawn on his features. You'd never seen someone with such an emotive face before.

With a happy yet strangely timid smile he shook your hand, "Steve. Steve Rogers."

His eyes once again turned away but this time you bent down to meet them once again, "Thanks, Steve."

You almost wished you had contained your snicker at the pink that hued his cheeks as he quickly left your apartment, "A-anytime, ma'am!"

"Steve!"

Your voice caused him to stop in place and look back at you with an expression that you could only describe as 'deer in the headlights'.

"I'm going to get you to call me by my name," you teased adding a wink for good measure.

His mouth opened and closed a few times and this time you definitely couldn't have stopped the laugh, even if you'd wanted to. Closing your front door you shook your head in amusement, you'd met your share of interesting people living in this city but you got the feeling Steve was going to be something special.

"Steve Rogers, huh? … Why does that name sound so familiar….?"


	3. Stan

A loud exasperated groan filled the air, cutting through the almost painful silence of your bedroom and echoing off the walls. You rolled to your side with an irritated huff before reaching over to turn on your phone, hissing out a curse as the screen's light stung your eyes.

3:37

It was 3:37 in the goddamned morning! The bold white numbers on the screen seemed to openly mock you and you avoided the temptation to throw your phone as you rolled back over for what felt like the millionth time that night.

This had been going on for hours. You were exhausted; physically and mentally, but sleep just refused to come. Your body begged for rest but your mind just wouldn't shut off. Everything that happened the day before replayed in your mind on a never-ending loop. Then just when you finally got your brain to shut up you found a multitude of other reasons to keep yourself up. The room felt too bright so you hid under your covers, but then you felt like you couldn't breathe. Then you were too hot, but if you ditched the covers you'd be too cold. Hell, it even felt like your heart was beating too fast. It was contradictive, it was torture, it was maddening; it was the painful affliction of insomnia.

After coming to the conclusion that sleep simply wasn't on the menu for tonight you detangled yourself from your sheets and left your bed with a sigh. Insomnia wasn't something new to you, infact it happened more often than you cared to think about, but no matter how many nights you laid in bed tossing and turning it never became any less of a pain to deal with.

You dressed yourself in tight lipped silence dutifully ignoring the thoughts buzzing in your head a mile a minute and grabbed the bag that you kept outside your closet door for occasions such as this. Granting your bed one last wistful gaze you left your room and walked to the front door, snatching your keys off the kitchen counter before locking yourself out.

A light mysterious buzzing sound was the only noise you heard as you walked down your apartment building's hall taking a path often overlooked by others but all too familiar to you. The end of the hall led to an unmarked door, that door led to a darkened hallway with lights that the super never bothered to get fixed, and at the end of this hall was an old stairway leading to a door marked 'oof'. Like the lights in this hall the stairs, door, and sign were rarely seen or used and so had been left to quietly fall apart out of sight and mind to anyone who didn't frequent the area. The stairs creaked loudly with each step and the door required a hardy shove to force its rusted hinges to give but once they did you were greeted with the small piece of paradise that you'd claimed as your own.

As you stepped out onto the roof you were met with the bright lights and gentle roaring of the city, maybe not the most peaceful to some but it was your self-proclaimed Eden. The nippy night air easily broke goosebumps across your arms and cemented the fact that you definitely weren't going to be getting sleep any time soon. You allowed yourself one more sigh with that in mind and walked to your spot at the edge of the roof.

It was nice to have a moment to just take in the view. Watching all the lights, cars, and people that brought life to the city even at such an ungodly hour. Reaching into your bag you pulled out a canvas already covered in a multitude of colors and abstract shapes and leaned it against the concrete wall before you. It was soon joined by an array of obviously well used bottles and cans of paint as well as stained brushes of varying shapes and sizes. You carefully put down an old, and in your personal opinion, tacky looking coffee mug and emptied what was left of an old water bottle into it. After coming to the conclusion that everything was where you wanted it, you fished your phone from your pocket, turned up the sound, and played a playlist of songs you'd created just for nights like these.

It was becoming somewhat of a tradition for you to find yourself like this; alone on the roof unable to sleep at some horrible hour of the night listening to music and painting. It was an almost calming ritual that, while not helping you to fall asleep, somehow helped to make you feel a little less spiteful of having yet another wasted night of unrest.

You stared at your painting thus far; it was of nothing in particular just an abstract creation of thought and emotion. There was no set point for when it would be finished except for when you decided not to add more. You closed your eyes, breathed deeply, and listened to the sounds around you as you tried to decide what color best described you right at that moment. Your music softly flowed through the air barely whispering over the sounds of the city but still managing to be clearly heard as you came to a decision.

A finely tipped brush was dipped into paint and hovered almost hesitantly over the canvas. Your hands started off a little shaky before picking up speed and confidence with each stroke and you soon fell into that quiet peaceful place where only you and your art existed. Your mind finally became blank, your thoughts silenced, and your body lulled into a calm peaceful trance.

It was tranquility.

It was beauty.

It was-

 **SLAM!**

Ruined.

Your body leapt and your heart pounded against your chest as you instinctively turned to find the source of what you were sure almost gave you a heart attack. The door to the roof loudly bounced against the wall before slamming back shut as the force responsible for the disturbance practically sprinted to the edge of the roof and gripped the ledge. It took a moment for your panic induced mind to recognize the towering blonde mass as the man who'd helped you just over a week ago. What was his name again? Stan?

You watched him in a mixture of curiosity and confusion briefly wondering how he'd managed to find his way up here. One of your favorite things about your oasis was that because it was so tucked away very few people knew about it, let alone visited it. It was the perfect place to find solace and drop your guard and the least likely place for someone to just barge in… or so you'd thought. Despite nearly being scared to death you were finding it fairly difficult to muster up any amount of justifiable rage at the intruder. It was difficult to be angry at anyone who looked like he did at that very moment.

His face was pale and ashen, his body was stiff as a rod yet visibly trembling, and his breath was coming out in short fast pants. You could even swear that the part of the ledge he was clutching was cracked! But that was obviously a coincidence or trick of light. The only way you could think to describe the man before you was that he looked like he had seen a ghost. It was a disturbing visage that left your insides churning. Feeling suddenly very uncomfortable you tried to quietly turn yourself back to your painting. The moment you moved, however, his entire body snapped towards you clearly just now noticing your presence and for some reason seeming to almost take it as a threat.

Trying to ignore the warning bells in your head, you attempted to be casual and give him a small friendly nod, "Hey."

The blonde's posture seemed less defensive but clearly still on edge as he tried to quietly clear his throat, "Hey."

Out of discomfort, though you chose to think of it as politeness, you turned back to your painting and tried to give Stan some privacy. This proved horribly difficult to do, however, seeing as you no longer knew what you were painting. The serene air of the night had been thoroughly destroyed. The once pleasant ambiance was now filled with tension, your calming quiet music just felt annoying, and your once peaceful mind was once again churning. Everything felt awkward and uncomfortable, which may have been what caused you to do that thing that always made matters worse; open your mouth.

"Bad dream?" It took you a moment to realize that the voice that had just echoed across the rooftop was infact your own.

It seemed to take Stan even longer to register that you'd said anything at all, "Something like that…"

"Ominous," you muttered just managing to contain an eye roll as you focused back in on your canvas.

Another silence engulfed the two of you, this one longer and no less uncomfortable. Stan seemed content on just ignoring you and focusing on whatever it was that had him clearly shaken up and you tried to make yourself content with returning to your painting. You told yourself that you should leave him alone. In your experience very few people liked it when others butted into their business especially when that person was a stranger. You should just tune out your strange blonde neighbor and go back to minding your own business. It was the most logical choice, it was the most normal choice, it was possibly even the most polite choice. But despite knowing this you couldn't shake that tiny nagging feeling that made you feel like it was almost your duty to comfort this tall blonde stranger. Maybe it was because he'd burst onto your rooftop sanctuary, maybe it was because he seemed like a nice guy, maybe it was because you were pretty sure you'd been through similar nights; hell, maybe it was just the sleep deprivation! Whatever it was, it's what caused you to set up a new canvas beside your own with an almost resigned sigh.

"Have you ever tried painting?"

"I'm sorry?"

Evidently it sounded like he had thought your conversation was over, you were almost always happy to prove people wrong.

"Painting? Have you tried it? Not just like in general, but as a way of de-stressing."

There was another pause before he responded, "Um… No, I haven't."

"You should try! It can be really soothing to just get all your thoughts and emotions out of your head and onto a canvas."

Stan gave you a look that you had a hard time reading before turning back to the city without a word, leaving you back in the heavy silence that seemed so fond of polluting the air.

"I draw," his voice was quiet, not nervous but almost unsure.

"Really?"

"Yeah… Not as much as I used to, but yeah…"

A smile crossed your face as you, quite happily, noticed that this lapse in conversation was lacking much of the bloated awkwardness the previous ones had held. With a small nod to yourself you came to a conclusion.

"Here," you called, holding a brush out to him.

You raised a confused brow as he seemed almost hesitant to take the brush, but as he quietly sat down to join you, you fixedly turned your gaze back to your canvas. It wasn't the easiest thing to accomplish, but you forced yourself to stay as relaxed and casual as you could beside your new painting buddy. Despite his size and obvious strength you felt slightly fearful that too much attention could make him uncomfortable and potentially scare him away. And you didn't want to risk doing that to the man you were slowly deciding to become friends with. As time passed you found yourself no longer feigning relaxation and were once again able to lose yourself to your painting. You were pleasantly surprised to find yourself even more at ease painting with your new companion than when you were alone. A smile twitched its way onto your lips when you glanced over and noticed that Stan's posture was much less tense and he seemed entirely focused on the canvas in front of him. As the sun began to peek its way past the surrounding buildings you leaned over to take a quick look at your phone.

5:09

With a stretch you stood from your spot and gathered up all the supplies that Stan wasn't using before allowing yourself to acknowledge his curios gaze.

"It's five," you said with a smile before realizing that that probably didn't answer much, "I've gotta go get ready for work. Feel free to keep painting if you like. Just leave everything in the hall when you're done. Ya know, in case it rains."

"Oh, right, thanks."

"Anytime, Stan!" You called over your shoulder as you quickly made your way off the roof.

"It's Steve, actually!"

His voice made it to you just as the door slammed shut causing you to stop mid step, "Steve? …Where the hell did I get 'Stan' from?"


	4. Laundry Day

Laundry day wasn't so much of a set day as it was an inevitable point in time when the amount of wearable clothes you owned got dangerously low. An appointed cleaning time probably would've saved you a lot of trouble. If you'd been a more organized adult you probably wouldn't be rushing around your room throwing all of your clothes into a basket while fretting over whether or not you'd still have time to do all the other chores that needed dealing with on one of your precious days off. You also probably wouldn't be stuck with only your pajamas left to wear. You'd probably have less than an entire laundry basket and half a bag to clean. And you probably wouldn't be struggling to precariously carry said containers down three flights of stairs. It's at times like these that you sometimes questioned your competence as an 'adult', but when all was said and done you made it down those malevolent stairs. And in the end isn't that what's really important?

It may have only been a small win but that's what life was comprised of; tiny victories. And so you allowed yourself to bask in this glorious achievement as you dropped your hefty load on top of one of the washing machines with a mighty **'THUD'** that reverberated across the laundry room; a smug smile of accomplishment gracing your lips.

"Um, afternoon," that was the second time Steve Rogers made your heart leap into your throat and stop mid beat.

Swerving around you came to the realization that the laundry room was _not_ as empty as you had previously thought.

"Afternoon," you replied before quickly turning back to your machine. Awkward moments were not something that you had a shortage of, but for some reason that didn't seem to make them any easier to deal with.

Silently cursing your lapsing grasp of reality you started stuffing your clothes into the machine, not once stopping to think about what materials you were putting in and fighting to ignore the heavy air of discomfort that seemed to hang over every moment you spent with your newest neighbor.

It wasn't until your first load had started and you could hear the rushing cool water start to fill the tub that you let yourself fall into a more casual stance. Rolling your neck in an attempt to relieve some of your built up tension you made a vain promise to yourself (for what was possibly the millionth time) to relax more. It was then that your attention slipped back over to your, seemingly always, unlikely companion. He stood over his own preferred machine jumping between looking confused and hopeless. His eyes briefly turned to you before quickly looking away and your curiosity had no choice but to be peaked. Was he waiting on his clothes? A quick glance at his basket showed it to be full. Along with everything inside being separated colors from whites and almost neatly folded. Was his machine broken? Your eyes flickered over to the change machine that had a handwritten 'Out of Order' sign taped on it. Another glance in your direction followed by an awkward shuffling of feet forced the following words from your mouth:

"Do you need some help?"

Blue eye flashed to meet your own, while his mouth seemed a bit slower on the uptake, "Y-yeah, actually… if you don't mind."

"Of course not," you replied bouncing over, "I can't tell you how many things about this place confused me when I first moved in."

Steve nodded mutely giving you a small grateful smile.

"So firstly, in case you hadn't noticed; the change machine is broken."

"Yeah, I… I saw that. Has it been broken for long?"

"Couple of years… at least."

"At least? No one's done anything to fix it?"

You gave a small noncommittal shrug, "Not since I've been around."

"And how long has that been?"

"Little over two years?"

The look Steve gave you was a mix between comical and adorable, "Anyways, no one's really cared, at least as far I can tell, because the old machines were replaced with ones that now take cards."

You'd hoped that this explanation would have cleared things up enough for him to suddenly not need your help and leave you back to the manic panic that was your relaxing day off but instead he just looked somehow even more uncomfortable.

"What? Don't have your card on you?"

"…Something like that…" You ignored the strange sense of déjà vu, "I was given one, I just… don't really use it."

"Ooooh… Are you more old fashioned or just trying to avoid Big Brother?"

You'd somehow perplexed him enough to get him to look you straight in the eye, "Big Brother?"

"Well, that basically answers that…"

It was impossible not to smile at how adorable his face got when looking that lost, "Never mind. This one's on me."

"What? No! I can't let you-"

You cut him off with wave of your hand as you pulled out you wallet, "Don't worry about it! You've only got-what? One load of laundry? Think of it as a 'welcome to the building/thanks for saving me from dying alone at the bottom of a staircase covered in books like crazy old lady Alma from the 3rd floor always says I will' gift."

A long silence passed where neither of you broke eye contact and the only sound that could be heard was the steady whirring of the machine that currently held your clothes.

"That's a really specific gift name," Steve finally said, the corner of his lip twitching up in amusement.

"Yeah, well…."

Your voice trailed off into an unintelligible mumble as you quickly swiped your card through the machine. You could've come up with a witty retort easily, but the washer suddenly needed your full attention.

"So, who's 'crazy old lady Alma'?"

"Oh, you haven't met her yet? She lives a few doors down from mine. She's not really crazy so much as she's reached just the right age where she's all out of fucks to give! She's the best."

You laughed to yourself as Steve's machine finally started running, "This one time I came home halfway through a grave yard shift and there was Alma; door kicked down with some kid pointing a gun in her face."

You shook your head at Steve's alarmed face, "I know, I know, it wasn't funny at the time. But here was this kid clearly meaning to rob her. He had a gun, he'd destroyed half her living room, and he was screaming all sorts of threats at her. And what was she doing? She was standing there wearing nothing but an old fashioned nightgown and curlers screaming back at him!"

Steve let you giggle for half a beat before his concern got the better of him, "What happened?"

You shook your head before walking back to your side of the room to start on another load, "I'll be honest, I was in a bit of a shock to return home after a thirteen hour shift to find my neighbor being held up in her nighties so I can't say I remember exactly how it all went down. All I know is that it ended with the kid running out in tears and me getting a forty-five minute lecture on 'what's wrong with kids these days' and another twenty on the rudeness of snooping."

"…Uh huh…. And you say she's _not_ crazy?"

"I prefer the word 'eccentric'," you replied with a wink. As if on cue your phone released an obnoxiously loud chime, warning you of an incoming text.

 _'Hey girl! donna just called out sick tonight think you could cover for her? ill make sure mackey throws in a extra 10 for ya! ;)'_

You instinctively pulled a childish face at your phone as the words played over in your head. Of course you'd get called in for a job on your day off. With a huff you slapped your phone back onto its place on the table with maybe a little more force than needed before starting your next load of laundry.

On the one hand you were always in need of extra cash, it's why you did small jobs like these on the side to begin with. But on the other hand it was your day off! You wanted to hurry and get your chores done so that you could just lay back and relax, maybe read a bit. Besides, aside from the laundry you still needed to go out for groceries and your apartment was in serious need of a good once over. Not to mention that if you did take the job you'd _also_ have to make a supply run. And find an assistant, because if Donna wasn't going to be there then there was little to no hope of Reg sticking around! You wiped a hand down your face with a sigh; would the pay even be worth all the trouble?

"Are you ok?"

Your exhausted eyes flickered over to meet a pair of concerned blue. Bright blue… framed by long blonde lashes… on a handsome face…With a killer body… You were suddenly struck with an idea!

"Hey Steve, what're you doing tonight?"


	5. Boyish Good Looks

Hey! Sorry about the long wait. Just moved states and am dealing with all the stress of the move and finding a job, yuck! xP

Have kind of mix feelings about this chapter, but the next one should be better and out pretty soon seeing as I'm almost actually done writing it lol! Anywho, thanks for your patience hope you enjoy!

Love!

* * *

" _Are you sure about this?"_

" _Completely! The guests we serve are almost always women. Either celebrating a birthday or just looking for some mild fun. They get all boozed up and giggly then practically throw their wallets into the tip jar!"_

" _Alright… but I've never done anything like this before. How will I know what to do?"_

" _Just copy what I do and look pretty. I guarantee that it'll be the easiest money you've ever made."_

The conversation from two hours earlier played in your head as you watched over half the women in the room eyeball Steve, the remainder seeming generally interested in what you were saying.

"Alright, that about wraps it up! Feel free to add whatever remaining touches you want and enjoy your masterpiece! We here at Painting with Perks would like to thank you for joining us this evening and feel free to come back any time!"

There were a few cheers as you finished your little speech, most of the women showing off their paintings to their friends and gathering their things while a few of the more inebriated ones went up to flirt with your newest blonde friend. You thought that he was actually handling it all surprisingly well. You had no doubt that he was uncomfortable, his stiff militant posture clearly showed that, but he kept up a friendly smile and professional attitude despite it all. In fact, you didn't remember seeing him blush once throughout the entire night, which was kind of strange for the shy sometimes-awkward Steve you'd come to know.

"So, who's the new boy toy?"

You turned to your left to see a leggy brunette watching you with a devious smirk.

Letting out an amused snort you shook your head at your long time friend, "He's not a boy toy and his name is Steve. He's my new neighbor."

"Oooh, neighbor and potential romp in the sheets?"

"No, Lisa, neighbor and potential friend."

"Wait, you're telling me that you live next to _that_ ," Lisa paused to give an over the top wave towards Steve who smiled back awkwardly, "and you just wanna be friends?!"

"First off, lower your voice! And second, yes!"

"Unbelievable…"

"What?"

"You're unbelievable!"

"Because I'm not interested in hooking up with every guy I meet?"

"Every _hot_ guy you meet, there's a difference. And yes!"

You rolled your eyes before they met Steve's again; his silently begging you to rescue him from the small group of women that still surrounded him.

"You do this every time! Meet an obnoxious, unattractive jerk and you bag him in a day. Meet a sweet, attractive guy and you brother-zone him!"

"I don't brother-zone guys!"

"Yes, you do! When was the last time you dated a guy who was nice to you _and_ attractive? Hell, when was the last time you went _on_ a date?!"

"Ok, Lees, sweets, I love ya. But just because you're in a serious long running relationship and can't run around flirting with every cute guy you see now, doesn't mean you can live your sex life vicariously through me."

Lisa paused giving you a contemplative pout before turning back to look at Steve, "…He's so cute though…"

A laugh burst from your lips before you could stop it, "Yeah, and he's really sweet. I think he has a hard time talking to women though…"

"What? How could a guy like that have a hard time talking to women?" Lisa raised a brow as Steve tried to nonchalantly remove one of the woman's hands from his arm only succeeding in backing himself further into a corner, "Although, now that you mention it…"

"Yeah… We should probably help him out…"

As the two of you made your way over Lisa cupped a hand around her mouth, projecting her voice throughout the room, "Alright, people! We're gonna start cleaning up and shutting down for the night! Make sure you have all your things, a designated driver, and we hope to see you again sometime!"

As the announcement came to an end the remaining people in the room all began to shuffle out, including the women surrounding Steve, one or two giving a wink while another slipped him a small piece of paper.

"How ya holding up, Cassanova?"

Steve shook his head but still gave you a small smile, "I'll survive."

"Hi, I'm Lisa."

"Steve. Pleasure to meet you, ma'am," Steve replied reaching out to shake Lisa's hand.

Lisa's hand shot back, a look of revolt painting her features, "Ew! Don't call me 'ma'am'! Makes me sound like I'm turning into my great aunt Gertrude…"

"I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to-" the look of pure embarrassed horror on Steve's face was enough to turn your insides and you quickly jumped in.

"Don't mind her, Steve. Lees here just loves to over-react."

"I don't overreact!"

"Whatever you say, _ma'am_."

She literally shivered in disgust before fixing you with a stern glare, "I hate you."

"Aw…. Love you too."

"That being said, here's your cut. You guys made a cool $500 tonight."

" _Sweet_!" You said pocketing the cash. "I believe there was also mention of a $10 dollar bonus?"

"It's in there. Oh! Before I forget, are you guys coming to the art fest tomorrow?"

"I knew there was something that I was forgetting!"

You both turned to Steve with hopeful looks, "I… didn't even know there was one…"

"Really? I kind of assumed this one would've told you about it," Lisa replied nudging you with a suggestive look that you chose to ignore.

"What?! I forgot! I've had a lot on my plate recently!"

"New season of Walking Dead come on Netflix?"

"They just can't find a safe place to live!"

"Riiiight, anyway, you should come, Steve. And drag this one along with you. She gets all wonky if she's left on her own for too long…"

"Alright! Well, that's my cue! Exit stage… that way," you announce making your way towards the exit with Steve trailing behind you.

"I'm serious about tomorrow!" Lisa shouted after you, "You both better be there or I'm hunting you down, Y/N!"

"Why just me?!"

"You know why!"

You shook your head as you and Steve stepped outside into the cool city air, both sharing an amused look.

"Your friend's…something else."

You grinned, "Isn't she though? Love of my life. Oh, here's your share by the way. You did great!"

"All I did was literally copy everything you did," Steve said with a snort.

"Yeah, and you were great at it!"

With a small laugh the two of you fell into a companionable silence as you walked down the streets of New York. It was about ten at night but the streets were still alive and thriving with the sounds of people and cars.

"So," you broke the silence with as much nonchalance as possible, " _do_ you wanna come hangout at the artfest?"

"And spend the whole day with a beautiful dame? What guy could refuse?"

Your feet immediately stopped walking as you stared up at Steve in shock. Steve's face started to redden as his words seemed to catch up to him and he took your reaction as horror.

"Holy shit… "  
"I-I'm so-"

"There's a smooth talker underneath all that blushing and stuttering!"

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean anything by it!"

You leveled the blushing blonde with a hard stare, crossing your arms and leaning your weight on your hip, "About which part? Coming to the festival or me being beautiful?"

Steve's hands flew up in a placating manner, "No! No! That's not… what I …meant…"

Steve trailed off as he noticed your losing battle to keep from laughing. His horrified expression quickly melting into deadpan as your laughter finally burst free.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! That was mean, " you admitted fighting to keep at least some composure. "You're just so adorable when you get all flustered like that!"

Blue eyes seemed to regard you for a moment before he shook his head with an amused huff. He looked at you another good moment and you could swear that he had a retort or something to say but instead he simply stuck his hands in his pockets and continued walking. If it weren't for the humored smile on his face you would have thought he was upset. You had to quicken your pace to keep up with Steve's much longer strides and gave him a friendly shoulder to… well, bicep bump.

Steve replied with the raise of a blonde brow, face still looking amused even if his eyes seemed to hold you in a slightly different light now, "So, I was thinking…"

"That doesn't sound good," Steve muttered earning another playful nudge from your shoulder.

"It's Friday, I'm feeling good, and we just made a killing thanks to someone's boyish good looks," Steve couldn't seem to fight the instinct to duck his head and try to cover the sudden pink and smirk that covered his face as your elbow nudged his side, "Let's go get plastered!"


	6. Welcome Home

Yep, definitely like this chapter better. It was just so much fun to write!

Side note, I just recently reread the summary I wrote for this story and is it just me or does it really suck? lol xD  
I know we haven't really started hitting the juicy parts of the story yet, but if anyone has any better ideas please lemme know. I'd really appreciate it!

Side side note, this one goes out to WMaldonado89 who called me out on my bullshit! The last chapter and this one _were_ actually one long chapter, but it seemed to prattle on forever and I wasn't sure if the scenes transitioned well so I split it in two. You caught me! xP

* * *

A Hole in the Wall was a hole in the wall biker bar that you'd come to for years. You'd made friends with many of the patrons and the violent 'no shits given' atmosphere had never really bothered you. In fact, you'd never really noticed how loud, obnoxious, and just plain dangerous the place felt until you brought Steve. The two of you stood side by side along the bar watching as despite the near shoulder to shoulder crowd the only two bartenders on duty were occupied; one leaning halfway across the bar to flirt with a patron and the other getting into an almost physical fight with a drunk. It was nothing out of the ordinary and didn't faze you; no, what got your attention was Steve. You'd taken friends to places like here before, even ones around Steve's size, and the results had always been the same. They'd either get really nervous and leave or they'd get really nervous but stay, and 9 out of 10 times end up knocked out on the floor. The thing was Steve didn't look nervous. He didn't look intimidated or threatened. He stood at his full height, seeming somehow even taller than usual, and you'd seen him scan the room as you'd made your way through, but never had it come across as fear induced. He didn't seem alert or on edge, he just seemed… Ready.

"Where's the bathroom?" Blue eyes met yours and his voice somehow seemed to project through the noise without having to yell.

"Follow the back wall to a hallway and then it'll be on your right! But I can't guarantee that you'll want to use it!"

Steve gave an amused smile and a quick nod of thanks before effortlessly making his way through the crowd.

"Just when I think I've got you all figured out," you mumbled to yourself as you watched him leave.

Your eyes shifted over the crowd around you with a sigh. Steve was becoming quite the conundrum. Granted you hadn't meant to take him to a biker bar this soon in your friendship, you were honestly just so used to mixing with so many different types of people that you forgot that not all of them got along so well. But Steve had surprised you. Adorable, sweet, terrified of accidentally insulting a woman Steve had completely thrown you off by not immediately running in the opposite direction the moment the doors opened and one of the patrons was being 'escorted' out after breaking a pool cue on another patron's head. Hey, those things aren't free.

"Well, well, Y/N L/N. Imagine running into you here."

 _Oh God…._

Despite the sudden rush of disgust that filled you, you turned around to meet caramel eyes with a feigned air of nonchalance.

"Trevor."

"Haven't seen you around in awhile."

"Been busy."

"Can imagine. Saw your new toy. Damn, you move on fast! Can't say I'm surprised…"

"He's not a toy, he's a friend. And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Just funny how quickly you can jump from warming one person's bed to another."

"It was two years ago. Get over it! I have."

"So, I've noticed. Thought you weren't into blondes… or does that not matter when they're inbetween your legs?"

Your face twisted in disgust as you turned away from him, "This conversation's over."

A hand grabbed your arm and pulled you back around and you fought the urge to snap it back, "Don't. Touch. Me."

Your voice came out in more of a hiss that would send most people away but Trevor just eyed you with that carefree smirk that drove you crazy. If you'd had a drink in hand you knew it'd be all over his face in that instant.

"Come on, Y/N, I know you."

"You don't know shit."

"I know you used to say you loved me."

If looks could kill this moron would be engulfed in flame, "Well, I was an idiot."

He leaned in closer, "Yeah, leaving me was a mistake, but we can still-"

"No, me ever being involved with you was a mistake. Leaving was one of the smartest things I've ever done."

There it was, that tiny spark of barely hidden rage lit in his eyes. Good, let him get angry! You were angry! His grip on your arm tightened but you were ready for a fight. Almost wanted it. Huh, maybe you weren't completely over your past with him…

"Let's stop this game-"

"I was never playing."

"-I know that guy you're with is just a rebound. But I don't care what you've done with him! I'm willing to forgive you and maybe even take you back."

 _Take me?! Forgive_ ** _me_** _?!_

You felt yourself become so enraged that you couldn't even form a response. So many thoughts scrambled through your mind before one finally just burst from your mouth without preamble, "What is wrong with you?!"

"…What?"

"After everything, _everything_ you put me through you seriously think that I'd ever want to be anywhere near you again?! And not only that but you've somehow convinced yourself that _you_ were the victim?! How? How is it even possible for you to be so narcissistic, so horrifyingly self-centered and stupid to be able to look me in the eye, after everything you put me through, and tell me _I_ was in the wrong?"

His grip on your arm tightened, "You need me…"

"I don't _need_ anyone. And I don't _want_ you."

He leaned back with a huff, licking his lips as he eyed you a moment in thought. God, you used to find that habit attractive on him, now it just reminded you of a snake…

"So, does your little boyfriend know? Does he know what happens when you're not hopped up on your happy pills?"

"Not that you ever cared, but funny you should mention that because I haven't had an incident since I left you."

"Give it time…"

When your only response to him was a cold glare, he gave you another insufferable smile, "You're broken, Y/N. We both know it. And whether or not you want to it admit it, we both know that I was the best thing to ever happen to you."

You sighed and moved to get up, this conversation clearly not going anywhere, but a stern grip kept you back.

"Let go, Trevor," you warned, perfectly ready to clock him one even with his hold on your primary arm.

"Why do you insist on making this difficult on both of us?"

"The lady said let go."

You both turned to see Steve standing beside you, eyes locked dangerously on Trevor. Trevor had the decency to look startled for a moment before the expression melted back into an easygoing grin.

"She's no lady, pal."

When Steve's glare didn't falter Trevor gave your arm an extra hard squeeze before releasing it, you felt a small burst of pride from not flinching.

"Relax, man, me and Y/N here are old friends," he said raising his hands.

"Really? That exchange didn't look very friendly to me."

"It wasn't. And you're not my friend, Trevor."

At that Trevor stood and made a move towards you, surprising you enough to make you take a step back, "What the fucks your problem?!"

Steve was inbetween the two of you in a second, his arm shielding you from any further moves Trevor might make.

"Hey, don't fuckin touch me, man," Trevor warned looking more and more on edge.

That's right, you'd forgotten about his strange inferiority complex when it came to other men. It made him jumpy, easily angered, and possessive.

"Back. Off."

Trevor licked his lips clearly considering whether or not to listen to Steve's warning and if he could take him on in a fight. Steve was a good bit taller than Trevor and looked stronger too, but you knew Trevor. He fought dirty and always carried a couple weapons on his person. A fight would not be a good idea, especially in A Hole in the Wall where the few people who did register the tense atmosphere would simply move to the side and let what happens happen.

Before you could voice your concerns and pull your new friend out of the fire that you'd accidentally started Trevor turned to leave, before stopping at the last moment and taking a swing. You'd seen your share of fights, you'd been in a few yourself, but you'd never seen someone actually catch their attackers punch; and yet that's exactly what Steve did. He almost looked exasperated as he shoved Trevor's fist back, knocking him down in the process.

"We don't have to do this. Just walk away."

Trevor was good at a few things, knowing when to walk away was not one of them. He went at Steve again and again, every attack easily being rebuffed. Until finally he did what part of you knew he inevitably would; Trevor pulled out a knife.

"Steve!"

You didn't know if your voice could be heard over the chaos of the bar. Some people yelling bets over the fight, others ignoring it, some currently in fights of their own, and you could swear some asshole had just turned up the music to drown it all out! Your insides felt like ice as you watched Trevor run at your new friend. Sweet Steve who'd helped you out when you'd needed him, adorable Steve who'd painted with you on the roof, awkward Steve who couldn't talk to women or work ATM machines. Steve, your friend, who was about to be stabbed in a bar because of a stupid tiff you had with an ex. Your nerves were electric, your body tensed and ready to spring inbetween the two of them. Not sure what you could do but unwilling to just watch, your feet moved of their own accord, and then…it was over.

In all of five seconds Steve had grabbed Trevor by the wrist, swung him around, and slammed him against a table twisting his arm behind him in what looked like a very painful hold. The knife dropped from Trevor's hand, his other arm thrashed trying desperately to reach for another weapon before Steve's voice stopped him, "Try it."

It was both a dare and a threat and said in a tone you never imagined Steve even being able to make, but it got Trevor to still.

"Let go, man! Fuck! My arm! You're breaking my fucking arm!"

"You still wanna fight?"

"No! You win! Fuck! Just let go!"

A few cheers and groans were heard around you as the betting patrons all swapped their cash and dispersed, but Steve's hold didn't give an inch. Blue eyes met your own softening only a fraction as he kept Trevor subdued, "You okay?"

Were _you_ okay?! You didn't even know how to answer that! Sure, you were a little shaken. The adrenaline was still pumping through your body and you had a small tremor, but that's because Steve was just in a knife fight! Sweet, adorkable Steve who you hadn't imagined could hurt a fly. And now he was asking if you were okay. Attacker still in his hands and he was concerned about you! Your mind came up blank and you were just barely able to give him a shaky nod. It seemed to placate Steve enough that he returned his attention to a still cursing Trevor.

"Is _she_ okay?! Fuck her, man! You're breaking my fuckin arm! That bitch can blow-OW!"

Steve's grip tightened as he twisted Trevor's arm back just a smidge, "What was that?"

"Nothing, man, nothing!"

"Good. Here's what's going to happen, I'm going to let you go and you're gonna walk out those doors and never look back. You're never going to touch her again or talk to her. If you ever see that she's in the same room as you, you're going to keep your head down and silently leave. Is that clear?"

Trevor thumped his head against the bar in a last small show of defiance before growling out his response, "Crystal."

With that Steve released him, standing by in case he tried anything else. But Trevor simply threw some crumpled bills on the bar to cover his tab, sent you the nastiest glare he could manage, and walked away holding his injured arm. You watched him leave in shock, this was _not_ how you expected the evening to end. Trevor had been harassing you on and off since your break up and in less than half an hour Steve had gotten him to promise to leave you alone for life. Who knew if it would stick, but… wow.

"You sure you're okay?"

You looked up to see big blue eyes filled with nothing but concern and honestly had to take a moment to gather yourself.

"Am I?! Steve, that was incredible! How did you-! And when he-! That was so cool! I have to… thank you!"

Steve's cheeks tinged a slight pink seeming to transform him back into the Steve that you were used to, "It was no problem… He shouldn't have treated you that way."

"Well, I have to thank you!" Your eyes quickly scanned the room in desperation, "Let me buy you a drink!"

"No, really, you don't have to! Anyone would have-"

"Steve," you placed a hand on Steve's arm, looking into his eyes and allowing yourself to be sincere for a moment, "No one has _ever_ stood up for me like that before. That was by far the coolest and sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. Let me thank you."

Steve's eyes held yours for a while before shyly dropping away and returning with a smile, "Okay."

With a grin you led him back to the bar, him stopping to give a polite but disinterested nod to the occasional pat on the shoulder and muttered 'good fight' along the way. When you reached the bar both bartenders continued to look busy doing anything but serving drinks.

"How are we supposed to get their attention?"

"It's easy, you just gotta know the magic words," you answered with a wink before leaning over the bar, "Hey, fat ass, is that a new haircut or did you lose a fight with a flame thrower?!"

Steve quickly pulled you back looking at you with a mix of confusion and disbelief as the large bartending man turned around with a scowl, "Who the f-"

His face transformed from anger, to shock, to pure amusement as his eyes fell on you, "Well, if it isn't, Y/N. Haven't seen you around in awhile, kid."

"Been keeping busy."

The large man let out a snort, "I'm sure."

"This is my friend, Steve. Steve, this is Rex."

"Pleasure," Steve said holding out his hand.

Rex gave Steve a once over, quickly assessing him before giving a small nod of approval and roughly shaking his hand, "Pleasures all mine. Watch out for this one, she's a little troublemaker."

"What?! No, I'm not!"

"So, I guess it wasn't you're ex and new friend I just saw smashing up my bar with their bodies."

You and Steve both shared an awkward look, "That… that could've happened to anyone…"

"And yet it's almost always you," you opened your mouth to protest but Rex quickly shut you down with a wave of his hand, "Go grab yourselves a seat and I'll send Jen over with your usual."

"First rounds on me!" You called as the two of you wandered through the crowd to find a table.

As you took a seat you couldn't stop the twitching of your lips as you watched Steve once again scan the crowd, "Ok, so I've gotta ask. Where'd you learn to fight like that?"

Steve looked at you for a minute before rubbing the back of his neck a little sheepishly, "A lot of places really… Got into a lot of fights when I was younger. Picked up a lot of tips from the other guys while they beat me up."

Steve's self-deprecating grin told you it was something he now laughed about but the idea of him being hurt didn't sit well with you, "That's awful."

"Well, I kind of started most of them," the mischievous glint in his eye aided with the very idea of Steve going around picking fights made you let out an amused snort. "I also learned a bit of stunt work from when I was in theatre."

"You were in theatre?"

"Yep, punched Hitler in the face over two-hundred times. Not many people can put that on their resume."

You tried and failed to hold back your snickers, not entirely sure how honest he was being, "No, not many can…"

"My best friend was also a boxer so he taught me some stuff and the rest I learned in the Army."

"I knew it!" You exclaimed snapping up and causing Steve to look at you in confused shock, "I knew you were ex-military!"

"…How?"

You waved off his question with a smile, "You all have this weird 'know my enemy' vibe. Hell, Rex over there is ex-Marine!"

Steve turned to look at him with interest, "Really?"

"Yep, quite a few of you guys frequent this little hole in the wall… Although, I guess I shouldn't clump you all into one group seeing as all the different branches I've met have been super competitive."

Steve turned back to the table to give you an innocent look, "I don't know what you mean."

You raised a skeptical brow, "Really? What's the best branch?"

Steve pretended to contemplate his answer before giving you an all-telling smile, "The Army."

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

You both shared an amused smile as Jen came by with your drinks. Setting them on the table while giving Steve a wink. You watched Steve give an awkward yet polite smile back, not seeming to really know what to do with the flirtatious attention. A devious smile pulled your lips as you prepared to make a teasing comment before freezing as concerned eyes met yours.

"How's your arm?"

You frowned looking down to notice for the first time that you'd been rubbing it, "Not too bad. Probably have a bruise tomorrow."

"Can I see?"

Taking a gulp of beer you gave a shrug before offering your arm over to the concerned blonde. It probably shouldn't have surprised you as much as it did but Steve handled you with a shocking amount of care, gently pulling up your sleeve before glaring at the skin below.

"Should've decked him one," he muttered, a slight accent you couldn't quite place ringing out.

"Whoa, easy tiger. It's just a bruise…" you trailed off upon noticing the red splotch slowly growing spots of green and purple. "Although… it does look a bit worse than I expected…"

You let out a small embarrassing squeal as Steve suddenly pressed his cold beer bottle against it, "How's that?"

"Not bad, soldier."

Steve gave an amused shake of his head as he kept the bottle pressed against your skin for a couple more minutes. You had to admit that it did feel pretty good, but you relinquished it back to him with a promise to ice it when you got home.

"Ya know, you seem pretty fresh off the boat," you announced mind wandering back to your previous topic.

"You could say that," Steve muttered while taking a pull from his beer.

"How long have you been back?"

Steve gave a small shrug, eyes seeming to look away at nothing, "About a month."

"A month?!" You stared at him in disbelief, but his eyes didn't seem to want to meet your own, "Well… welcome home."

You offered your beer bottle up to him for a toast a little confused by the startled look in his eyes. Had no one welcomed him back? You didn't like the idea of that possibility and let the thought trickle away at the soft grateful smile that lit up his face as he clinked his glass against yours, "Thanks."

You both fell into a comfortable silence before the warm look slowly faded from his face.

"You know, sometimes it doesn't really feel like home anymore. So many things changed and I missed them all. Everything's so different and most of the time I can't tell what's up from what's down…"

 _Holy shit, that's heavy…_

You opened and closed your mouth a few times, eyes darting away as you didn't know what to say and Steve seemed to pick up on that, bashfully clearing his throat, "Sorry, I guess that was a little much…"

"No! No, I'm sorry," you said quickly reaching out to place your hand on his. "I just wish there was something I could say to make it all better…"

A silence fell between the two of you, the noise from the rest of the bar being drowned out as you both stayed swept up in your own thoughts.

"Steve, look, I know we don't know each other very well, but just know that I already think of you as a friend and if you ever need anything I'll be there."

You offered him a small smile that he hesitantly returned, "Thanks. I didn't mean to bring down the mood."

You let out a snort, "You? Your ex wasn't the one who showed up out of nowhere and tried to stab people."

Steve gave you a wry smile, "True, that did put a bit of a damper on things."

You laughed giving his hand a squeeze before letting it go, "Well, I did promise to get us plastered so let's liven things back up!"


	7. Steve?

Gah! This chapter came out way longer than expected and I have SUPER mixed feelings about it. Lemme know what you think, thanks for all the love, and hope you guys enjoy!

P.S. One more chapter til drama, WHOO!

* * *

The plan was simple you were going to get Steve wasted! There was no doubt in your mind that he would be an amazing drunk. Either from being hilarious or adorable you weren't sure yet, but you were dead set on finding out. You'd challenged him to a drink off feeling rather confident in your skills and had let Rex know to keep the shots coming until one of you was on the ground. Rex had even made a deal with Steve that if he could outdrink you the tab would be on the house. It was the prefect plan!

"You can't beat me in a drinking contest."

Usually the pregame trash talk came off as arrogant or patronizing, Steve just seemed amused by the idea.

"Don't underestimate me, I've beaten nearly every regular here at the game!"

"Y/N, I promise you, you can't outdrink me. It's just not possible."

Jen set the first round on the table and you threw Steve a wink as you picked up your glass, "We'll see!"

Steve shook his head but there was no hiding the amused grin on his face, "I warned you…"

It was around the fifth round that you started feeling it. The warm tingles had successfully spread through your body and you just felt OH so relaxed. You tried hard to fight the lazy grin that kept trying spread across your face as you stared down at your opponent. Steve stared back simply looking amused and completely unfazed by the liquor. Half of you felt upset that he wasn't showing any affect from the booze, the other half just couldn't help but smile at that adorable twinkle he got in his eye when he looked so happy and entertained.

Round eight is when things started getting a little trickier…

"You feeling ok?"

You stared Steve down with the hardest glare you could muster; by the way he was fighting to keep from laughing you were starting to believe that it wasn't that intimidating.

"Oh, I'm just suuuuper!"

"You look a little unsteady there. Do you wanna stop?"

"In your dreams, blondie! I'm just getting started!"

Round eleven is when things started to get a little… spinny…

You almost fell out of your chair, you're not sure why but the room just seemed to decide to turn sideways for a few moments and you didn't adjust in time. You caught yourself just as Steve appeared by your side to help balance you.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just a little tipsy," You mumble unable to hide your slurs.

Steve gave you a skeptical look, "Just tipsy?"

"Yeah, Steve! Falling out of chairs is part of being tipsy. See you tip, and then you go 'weeeeee'!"

Purposely tipping yourself over to prove your point probably wasn't the best idea, but luckily Steve was there to catch you.

Round fifteen is where you stopped.

"Really, Y/N?! First time I bet on you and you lose?!"

Rex's voice rang out through the now mostly empty bar, but you couldn't see him, all you could see was the weirdly shifting ceiling.

"Steve?"

"I'll cover both our tabs," you could hear Steve but you couldn't see him.

"Steve?"

"That's not the point!"

"Steve?"

"Yeah, Y/N?"

"…I'm drunk."

"I know, Y/N."

The sound of a woman snickering was heard before Jen's face popped into your view, "I've never seen her this trashed before."

"Jen?"

"Oh no, you don't! You've been calling out Steve's name for the last twenty minutes, you are _not_ moving onto me!"

"Jen?"

"No!"

"Jen?!"

"Forget it!"

"…Steve?"

"Yeah, Y/N?"

"The room won't stop spinning… I want off…"

Steve's amused face appeared in front of you a couple seconds later, "I'm gonna help you up, okay?"

On the count of three strong arms pulled you up and you wobbled as the world spun violently around you before coming to a shaky stop.

"Wow… I am drunk…."

Jen let out a laugh, "Yeah, we know, Y/N. You've told Steve here at least four times."

"No, I mean… I am _seriously_ shitfaced… Rex, can I get a hug?"

The large man stared you down with a scowl, "After losing tonight? Hell no!"

"So mean," you mumbled, but didn't put up a fight as Steve helped keep you standing, "Jen?"

You held out your arms in a silent request for a hug while throwing her your best drunken puppy dog eyes, unfortunately this meant letting go of Steve and almost tipping over.

"Yeah, how bout we not until the next time I'm sure you won't accidentally barf on me," she replied, watching Steve catch and rebalance you before her lips curled into a wicked grin, "Why don't you give Steve a hug?"

Of course! It was so _obvious_! Steve was standing right there so you wouldn't even have to risk walking and if you were fast enough he wouldn't be able escape!

You heard Steve begin to say something before it was cut off by your arms quickly, and surprisingly strongly, wrapping around his waist with your head snuggling into his side. You could practically hear him blush as he awkwardly cleared his throat and the sound of Jen snickering filled the room.

"We should… I should probably get her home," Steve managed awkwardly trying to move towards the door with you securely wrapped around his waist.

"Alright, you two be careful out there. And hey," Rex caught Steve's arm in a vice grip before growling out in a tone that only forty odd years of smoking and bourbon could accomplish, "No funny business, right?"

You felt Steve stiffen before giving a nod, "Right."

Suffice to say Rex must have found something in Steve that he liked because after only a moments pause the two of you were once again moving towards the door. Jen yelled out a quick good-bye, which you returned with maybe just a little too much enthusiasm. As the door shut behind your duo and the cool air spread around you some part of Steve seemed to relax a bit. You felt more than heard the amused huff he let out and tilted your head up to see his amused smile.

"You plannin' on stayin' like that the whole walk?"

There was that hint of an accent again; you were going to have to ask about that at some point. Playing over his question in your head you felt that you really did want to stay like that. He was comfy, smelled nice, and his body heat helped stave off the slight chill in the air. But even your inebriated mind knew that this wasn't a very practical way to travel, so you slowly removed your arms.

"Nah, I feel like getting home sometime before Christmas."

Despite your comment having Steve half carry you down the sidewalk was still just about as slow as if you'd just hung onto him, this for some reason made you pout.

"This is taking forever!"

"We're almost there."

Almost wasn't close enough you turned to say before realizing just how much taller Steve was than you. And you were sure he was stronger. An idea popped into your head bringing your feet, and Steve's as well, to a stop.

"What's wrong?"

"Can I get a piggy back ride?"

Steve looked at you for a moment seeming to really think over your request before simply turning around and crouching low enough for you to get on. With an enthusiastic 'Yes!' you threw yourself on his back. Momentarily forgetting the laws of physics (again) all your weight landed straight on Steve who surprisingly didn't budge an inch. His arms linked under your knees as yours wrapped around his shoulders and you couldn't stop the small giggle that came out as he stood back up to his full height.

"I haven't had a piggy back ride since I was a kid!"

"Yeah? I've never given one."

"What?! But you're so good at it!"

The feel and sound of Steve's laughter made you immediately realize just how little sense that comment made.

"Shut up... you know what I meant," you mumbled, burying your face in the back of Steve's increasingly warm neck.

"No, I think you lost me on that one, doll."

"Doll… that's a cute pet name… I should start calling people by pet names more often…"

You continued to mumble incoherent thoughts into the back of Steve's neck as he carried you towards your apartment. Steve listened to whatever new random thought slipped out of your mouth, occasionally commenting and almost always laughing before you tired yourself out and silently enjoyed the ride. After awhile you recognized yourself as being only a few more blocks from your building when a thought occurred.

"Steve?"

"Yeah, Y/N?"

You were going to have to remember to thank Steve for his patience in the morning; this man was truly a saint.

"Did you cheat?"

"At what?"

"The drinking contest. We both drank a lot, but you're not even tipsy."

Steve sighed, "I warned you; I can't get drunk."

"But… how?"

Steve was quiet for a minute as he seemed to think over how to answer you, "I have a… _really_ high metabolism."

"Oh… so never?"

"Never."

"…That sucks."

Steve let out a humorless chuckle, "Sometimes, yeah… a lot. But it comes in handy."

"How?"

"Helps me win drinking contests for one and if you ever need a designated driver I'm your guy."

You let out a chuckle, "I don't have a car!"

"Well, we can take my bike some time."

"You have a motorcycle?!"

"Yep."

"Could you… would you take me for a ride someday?"

You could hear the smile in Steve's voice, "Sure thing, doll."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

The two of you lulled back into a friendly silence for awhile before Steve's voice came back a little softer.

"It also helps keep me focused… not being able to get drunk means not being able to distract or numb yourself from the things that hurt or scare you. Without having something like that to use as a crutch forces you to face your problems instead of just hiding from them… least in my case."

You thought over Steve's words for a few moments before letting out a sigh and tightening yours arms around his shoulders.

"Steve, you're really strong."

He chuckled, "You're not _that_ heavy."

You gave his shoulder a playful slap, "Tell that to my scale. But that's not what I meant."

He sighed, "I know."

"I get it, ya know?" You buried your face in his shoulder not sure if you were comforting him or yourself, "When things have gotten bad, and they've gotten really bad, all I feel like I can do is hide. But you… you're really strong."

You barely heard the soft 'Thanks, doll' as the conversation seemed to die off. The rest of the trip was in silence as Steve carried you into the building, up the stairs, and carefully planted you on your feet. Finding your keys was easy getting them in the lock was less so, but with Steve's help, yet again, you safely made it across the threshold.

"Thanks, schnookums!"

Steve raised an amused but inquisitive eyebrow, "What?"

"Hey, it's my first try at this whole cute pet names thing, don't judge! You make it seem so easy…"

"Right… Well, are you gonna be alright on your own from here?"

"Steve, I'm an adult. This is not my first time drunkenly stumbling around this apartment. You just be sure to be here tomorrow morning at… let's say eight. That way we can eat breakfast and have all day to spend at the Art Fest!"

Steve gave an exasperated but amused shake of his head before surrendering with a smile, "Yes, ma'am."

"Night, Steve!"

"Good-night, Y/N."

You shut the door without being able to wipe off the grin on your face. You felt light and carefree, tired but excited for what tomorrow would bring. You were ready to fall into bed and slip into that peaceful void of sleep that being plastered got you. And fall you did. With a loud **thump** that bounced off the walls of your apartment you suddenly found yourself face down on your carpet. You weren't even sure how it happened things just went black for a second and suddenly had the eyelevel of an ant.

' _So much for being an adult…'_

Your thoughts were interrupted by a sudden frantic knocking on your door.

"Y/N?! Y/N?!"

"…Steve?"

"Are you ok?"

"…yeah…"

"Can I come in?"

"'Course."

Steve opened the door and looked almost horrified to see you lying on the ground and was at your side in an instant, "Are you ok?"

"Yes, yeah, I'm fine. I just… thought I'd sleep here tonight…"

Steve's look of concern quickly melted into exasperated disbelief, "On the floor?"

"It's surprisingly comfy."

With a sigh and a quiet 'alright' that was directed more at himself than at you, Steve flipped you over onto your back before scooping you up in his arms. A surprised and embarrassing squeal burst from your mouth and you quickly turned to glower at the now smirking Steve.

"Not. One. Word."

"Didn't say nothin."

"Yeah, but you were thinkin it."

The smirk grew. Steve carried to your room, carefully placing you on your bed before removing your jacket and shoes.

"I could've done that myself."

"I know," something about his mannerisms made you doubt that, but then he was wrapping your blanket around you, tucking you in, and… did letting someone take care of you always feel this nice?

You watched Steve leave the room, your breathing already slow and steady and your body feeling like it was floating. By the time he returned keeping your eyes open was starting to burn.

"You're probably gonna want this in the morning," Steve said in not quite a whisper, but more a soft hum as he set down a cold glass of water at your bedside.

"Thanks."

"See you in the morning. 'Night, doll."

"'Night, snicker doodle."

You just barely caught Steve's amused face before he turned out the light and shut your bedroom door.

' _He makes it seem so easy…'_

Your eyes drifted across the room one last time before landing on the bottle of pills that sat on top of your dresser. You lifted your arm in a poor attempt to will the bottle to your hand before dropping it back on the bed. You tried to convince your body to stand but everything just felt too heavy. You were comfy and exhausted and… Steve had worked so hard tucking you into bed. With a small sigh you reasoned that you could miss one night. As darkness filled your vision you began to mentally list some new nickname ideas to try out on Steve; you got up to three.


End file.
